


Cur Dog

by HalfmoonHeart



Series: The Dogpack [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Claustrophobia, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Gen, Multi, Nonbinary Character, Other, Polyamory, Trans Fenris, Trans Inquisitor, Trans Male Character, they pronouns
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-12
Updated: 2016-09-07
Packaged: 2018-08-08 06:42:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7747195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HalfmoonHeart/pseuds/HalfmoonHeart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before Samahl was Inquisitor, they were trying way to hard to hide their magic and find a place to fit in. This is mostly to explain how they know each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Wolf In The Woods

When they finally tracked the wolf down, they’d only wanted to shoo it away. They stood quietly in the tree line, sending images of their companions and their weapons to the ash-coloured beast. But it stared them down with amber eyes. Completely unafraid. So, they shrugged and left it alone. A beast like that, in these strange and dark woods, was either a threat or it wasn’t. Plus, their companions could easily dispatch it if it came into the camp. But surely it wouldn’t, they reassured themselves, It hadn’t an open mind, but my message was clear.

The hulking dracolisk they’d dubbed Mountain had sensed the wolf first, and sent Samahl after it. Something about it had wriggled in Mountain’s mind, making him restless and slightly grumpy. He’d sent images of death and the feeling of prey slipping just out of his grasp. They had wondered what had gotten his tail all up in a knot, and now they knew – the wolf had bestowed a similar feeling in the pit of their stomach. Curiosity somewhat sated, they trotted back down the game trail. Their twin swords bounced lightly on their back. Ahead, Varric’s chatter carried through the trees. Before getting to the clearing, they quickly asked Mountain to keep his guard up, at least until the dwarf and his friends quieted down. They entered the clearing cautiously, but every single person glanced their way. Damn their feet. They was so much more silent as a fox.

“Halla!” Varric called to them, indicating with quick hands that they should come sit by the fire. They headed that way, not before receiving a rather icy glare from Fenris. They pretended they hadn’t noticed, flicking their ears happily toward the others. Hawke offered them a few Dalish crackers as they sat down.

“So, what was it?” Varric asked, a strange, probing glint in his eyes. They set their jaw. They weren’t entirely certain whether or not they could trust him. And the way he’d nicknamed them “Halla” annoyed them. They’d taught him how to pronounce their name, and even offered “Sam” as an easier alternative. But apparently nicknames were his thing.

“Wolf,” they replied shortly, glancing across the fire at Merrill, flattening their ears in a silent plea to her to not say anything. All Dalish had tales of wolves, but the clans in this area were particularly superstitious. Sam didn’t want her to say something that might make the rest of the group uncomfortable. But, seeing as she wasn’t an animal, Samahl doubted Merrill heard their pleas.

“This close to Kirkwall?” Hawke asked, sounding both surprised and annoyed. Traders sometimes travelled these trails, and she was concerned about her home. But her alarm was a little over the top. Perhaps Hawke was receptive to energies and felt as bad about the forest as Sam did. It pressed on them, not unlike the walls of an aravel – tight, constricting, closed-off.

“It’s just one wolf,” Varric said, his tone soft. “Right?”

“Yes, just the one. It shouldn’t be a problem, even though its mind was unreceptive.”

“Hmm, it’s almost as if not everything wants you inside their minds,” Fenris growled quietly. His ears were constantly winged flat, sending Sam a very clear message. They didn’t reply, choosing instead to start on the crackers Hawke had given them.

The silence lasted only a moment before Varric began to fill it with something – Samahl had stopped paying attention. Mountain had encountered the wolf – it had stalked down the little game trail and stood in the woods outside the clearing, watching the little group of travellers. He’d tried to chase it off, but it appeared a few moments later, still watching the clearing with burning amber eyes. Without a word, Samahl shifted into a burly black fox and bounded into the forest. Hawke called after them, but they’d explain later. For now – if this wolf wanted a fight, it’d get a fight. And they’d do it teeth-to-teeth.

The beast wasn’t hard to find. Perhaps it came to find them. They’d gone just far enough from the clearing to be out of earshot from their companions and Mountain when it emerged from the shadows, head down and ears flat. In the dying light, the amber eyes burned red and angry. They reached for its mind and were puzzled to find an ancient, overgrown labyrinth. Strange. Too complex to be any normal wolf. Then again, they hadn’t ever been certain that this wolf was normal. Now, they were certain. Something odd and evil twisted within the dark beast’s mind.

“You have words,” they barked. “Let’s use them.”

But the beast snarled and lunged. They tried to jump away, but they were too slow. The wolf’s black jaws closed on their left foreleg, the force twisting them around with a yelp. They managed to find purchase with their teeth – right on the top of the wolf’s head. They chomped down as hard as they could. The wolf made a noise like they’d kicked the breath out of its lungs and shook them loose, flinging them off. They skid to a stop in the dirt a few paces away.

Immediate pain shot through their left leg, but they ignored it, standing and squaring off against the wolf. They’d left a large puncture above its right eye and the blood was already streaming down, obscuring its eye and dripping onto the forest floor. The black fox snarled at the wolf, thick tail lashing. Not a second later, Mountain bugled and burst through the trees. Letting out a growl, the wolf tucked its tail and fled away from the camp.

“Sure showed him,” Samahl said, sitting down. Their head was starting to feel fuzzy. Before they could get any weaker, they shifted back to their elvhen form. It was easier to see the extent of the wound that way. There were four punctures and a large tear right between their wrist and elbow. Blood was already beginning to pour down, dripping off their fingers.

“Perfect.”

Mountain pressed his head against their back. Pushing them. Forcing them to their feet. They trudged forward. They cradled their arm, trying to tune out the pain. Camp was so close. Easy to reach. They planted one foot and stumbled. Everything was foggy.

Old, mossy corridors twisted ahead of them, and Samahl was running. Sometimes the walls split off and sometimes they came to a screeching dead end. They tried to change form into a swift halla, but something was blocking their magic. They grew frustrated and screamed, stopping and turning circles, trying to discern a way out. Around their legs, there began to form a thick fog, which the Fade tinted sickly green. Ahead, a wolf howled.


	2. Bites

With a start, Sam woke. Pain threaded its way up their arm, but it was a dull ache that didn’t actually seem terrible. They opened their eyes, groaning a little as they blinked in the gentle morning light. Immediately, Hawke was at their side, telling them to relax while she got some water. They were inside Hawke’s small tent, which made Sam desperately uncomfortable. Especially as they glanced over and saw Fenris sitting cross-legged in the other corner. 

He stood and stepped over them, settling beside them. Before they could speak, he hauled them by their shoulders into a sitting position and took their left arm. It had been heavily bandaged. With deft hands, he unraveled the cotton, revealing an angry wound on their forearm. The ragged edges of the teeth marks were stained with blood, but the bleeding had mostly stopped. However, it was plain that this was nothing to sneeze at.

Fenris cleaned the wound with a damp sponge, getting rid of the worst staining, then poured a bit of alcohol over their arm. Though they grit their teeth, Sam was careful not to let their face or ears change, especially when they caught Fenris glancing up to see their reaction. He smeared some sort of salve on the broken flesh, pressing it into the punctures. Quickly, he rewrapped it, securing the ends tightly.

“You will need to be diligent with it,” he said, rising to leave. His voice was clipped and his ears flatted, as if he really wasn’t all they interested in whether they kept on top of their wound care or not. “The salve is elfroot and beeswax, you may keep it.” 

That surprised them. Sam glanced over to the small salve pot nearby, reaching for it slowly. It was an old pot that had a tiny wooden latch and a wooden inlay. It was very simple and pretty, and they were shocked that he would let them have it. But, the salve was an old recipe that they’d heard of before. When they were finished with it, they’d make him a fresh batch and give it back. They slipped the little box into their belt pouch carefully, taking measures to ensure it was secure.

Hawke returned with a drinking skin, which Sam drained quickly. They hadn’t even noticed how thirsty they had been. After that, she helped them to their feet, telling them that the group needed to be moving soon. Sam had slept feverishly all night and the majority of the morning, so that delayed their arrival in Kirkwall by almost half a day. At this rate, it would be evening by the time they got back.  
Feeling guilty for the inconvenience, Sam tried to help out with taking the tent down and packing things up, but with their bum arm, they were nothing but a hindrance. Varric must have noticed. He took them aside, asking about the previous night. They’d heard the wolf howling a few times, but thankfully, it never came close. Mountain must have seen to that.

“Your thingy went off by himself though,” he said, glancing around. Sam had known that already, but they appreciated that Varric had paid attention. He kept them talking up until everyone was ready to go, and then stayed beside them as they headed west.

“Mountain is patrolling ahead,” Samahl told the group as they traveled, accounting for some sudden changes in their route that they’d made. Merrill seemed a little miffed – her clan had been more familiar with these forests than Sam’s – but she said nothing. Sam didn’t have the heart to tell her that the forests near Kirkwall had changed in the three years since her clan had come here. They’d gotten dark and hungry. Just like the wolf.


	3. Kenneled

Arriving at the gates of Kirkwall was less of a ritualistic ordeal than Samahl had been imagining. The city walls stood like dark guardians, serving only to blacken the sky and oppress those within. Sam could already feel the press of so many souls all jammed inside. They shivered.

They kept in contact with Mountain, who’d retreated to some place in the north, but it was sporadic images and rumbling. They felt their heartbeat speeding up as they went through the gates, eying the guards who stood at either side. They knew Hawke, so they didn’t stop the group, but Sam couldn’t get past them fast enough. They whirled around, breathing fast, pinning their ears and watching pitifully as they closed the gates. At least there hadn’t been any kind of ceremony or waiting.

“Pathetic,” Fenris growled under his breath. Hawke shot him a glance but said nothing, preferring to lead the group down a few streets before stopping down a side street in the market district. The shops were closed for the night, so they were the only ones around. Luckily, as long as they didn’t reach out with their energy, they couldn’t sense too much of the city’s pulse.

“I’ve got some things to get done,” Hawke said, fidgeting with the belt pouch that Andahari had given her, “My house is full-up at the moment, and I don’t want you at the Hanged Man.” She looked at Merril pointedly. Sam’s ears pricked up hopefully.

“Sorry, da’len, I don’t have a place for you to sleep. Perhaps-”

“No.” All eyes were on Fenris. He took a step away from the group, his ears pinned back angrily, “I won’t have a cur-dog mage under my roof.”

“Come on, Broody, they won’t bite,” Varric said, smiling. He glanced at Samahl, winking at them. He obviously took pleasure in the annoyances of his companions, which they could appreciate. Especially one as irritating as Fenris.

“I’ll be good,” they said, playing along, ears relaxed and one eyebrow raised. That earned them a smile from Hawke as well.

Faced with his limited options, he relented, winging his ears in resignation. Hawke nodded to him, then they all turned to go their separate directions. Fenris wheeled and marched away, not looking over his shoulder or waiting up. Sam waved to Varric then trotted after the other elf, looking around the district as they did. Silently, he led them up several flights of stairs and down several narrow alleys. When Sam felt certainly and hopelessly lost, they emerged in a small courtyard, surrounded by tall, huge houses. 

“Here,” Fenris said, opening the door to the nearest one. He ducked inside, impatiently holding the door open for them to follow. He locked it behind them, then edged passed Sam to go into the main hall. It was an old house, clearly in a state of disrepair. Dust stuck to the surfaces and the untraveled floor. The only lights that burned were wall sconces. In the hall, the stairs up to the bedrooms crumbled on one side. But it had a certain charm to it.

“This suits you,” they said, looking around approvingly. Fenris pretended not to hear, though they could see his ears go flat in annoyance. 

“Make yourself at home,” he said, a tone of sarcasm in his voice. He trudged up the stairs and went into the master bedroom, leaving the door open. They could hear the sound of his armor and weapon hitting the floor. Did he not have anywhere to put it? They were beginning to think that the whole place looked like this. Perhaps they’d investigate later. For now, they needed to get some rest. The walk to Kirkwall left them physically exhausted, and the constant pressure of this city made their mind scream for sleep.

Sam didn’t want to give up the vaulted ceilings of the hall, so they picked a relatively open space near the stairs to sit, placing their pack near the wall. They unwrapped their arm cautiously, prepared for the worst. To their pleasant surprise, it looked worlds better than this morning. They smeared some salve on it and left it unbandaged. 

They knew very well that they wouldn’t get any sleep like this, so they shifted into their halla form, which allowed them to curl up with no pressure on the wounded leg. They rested their head on the stair ledge, listening to the sound of the house and reaching out, seeing what they could find. Residual magic laid on every surface, as thick as the dust. They could feel fear here, and hate, laced into the walls, the carpets, the tile. It told them more than Fenris would have liked, that much they knew. 

Heaving a sigh, they decided that now wasn’t exactly the time to psychoanalyze people. They adjusted their position again, then closed their eyes. It took a bit but they eventually drifted off to sleep, missing the sky and the forest and Mountain.


End file.
